Widow Woman
by purplepagoda
Summary: When a naval officer is murdered his Marine wife is the main suspect. Will Gibbs be able to clear Sarah MacKenzie's name? Did she really kill her husband? And why can't he stop thinking about her? How long can they deny the chemistry between them before they give in, and cross that line?
1. Cold Blooded

He ducks under the crime scene tape. His team is already at the scene. He finds local LEO's standing in the driveway. He looks to his right, and finds a silver SUV parked in the drive. He finds a one star general leaning against the car, being restrained by an officer.

Gibbs approaches the young officer who has the general pinned against the car. He motions for him to step aside. The young man steps aside, and retreats to his vehicle. The woman spins around, and looks at him. She wears a look of panic on her face. She takes a step forward. He throws his hands up.

"Whoa. Where are you going, ma'am?" He questions the dark haired woman standing in front of him.

"I have to go in there," she insists.

"You can't go in there. You know that."

"I appreciate that you have protocol. I total understand that, but I need to go in there."

He scrutinizes the look on the Marine's face. She remains calm in the face of tragedy. She tries to keep her composure despite her need to get into the house. He notices the vein in her forehead pulsating, a tell-tale sign that she is irritated.

"General, why do you need to get in the house?"

"It's my house," she informs him.

"I understand that ma'am."

"You don't understand," she argues.

"Explain it to me," he insists.

"Well, gunny my daughter is in there. I need to get my daughter. I got home, and my driveway was full of police officers. They put up crime scene tape, and they wouldn't let me in. They won't even tell me what's going on. They just told me not to go anywhere."

"Ma'am please calm down."

"Stop calling me ma'am!"

"General please trust me."

"Trust you? I don't even know you."

"You don't?" He arches his eyebrow, "You called me gunny."

"I only know of you."

"So then trust me."

"I can't. It's your job to investigate murders."

"Yes," he confirms.

"And…"

He cuts her off, "I'll tell you what. You stay here, and I will go in and retrieve your daughter. Okay?"

"Tell me what's going on."

"Please trust me," he begs.

"Agent Gibbs the only two people who are supposed to be in that house are my daughter, and her father. They won't tell me anything. I don't even know if she's okay."

"Give me a minute," he turns and walks away.

He walks into the house. He finds Ducky standing in the entry way, over a body. The victim lies on the floor, face down. He finds McGee snapping crime scene photos to his right, in the living room.

"McGee, where is the girl?"

He looks up at his boss, and furrows his brow, "What girl?"

Gibbs grabs a framed picture off the wall. He holds the eight by ten photograph up to his subordinate.

"This girl."

"Is she supposed to be here?"

"Yes."

"Boss we cleared the crime scene. We didn't find a girl."

"Where are Bishop, and DiNozzo?"

"Bishop is in the kitchen. DiNozzo is upstairs."

Gibbs nods, and heads into the kitchen. He pulls on a pair of gloves, and begins opening, and closing cabinet doors. Bishop puts her camera down on the counter.

"Gibbs what are you looking for?"

He simply holds up the photograph.

"A little girl."

"We didn't see a little girl."

"She is supposed to be here. Did you talk to the witnesses? Did anyone see someone leave with her?"

"The neighbors heard shots fired, and a pick-up truck speeding away from the crime scene."

He shakes his head in frustration, and turns to the pantry. He looks high, and low. He checks in the bathroom, behind the shower curtain. He combs through the dining room, opening, and closing the doors of the buffet. He steps into the laundry room. He checks in the hampers. He peeks in the washer, and dryer. He turns up nothing. He starts up the stairs. Halfway up he hears Tony shrieking like a girl. He races towards the sound. He finds Tony standing in the hallway, with a panicked look on his face. He stares at the bottom of a door.

"What's in there?"

"It's a closet."

"What's in there?" Gibbs queries.

Tony points. Gibbs finds tiny fingers sticking out from underneath the door. He steps between his agent, and the door. He watches as the fingers recoil. He pulls the door open. He finds a pair of hazel eyes staring up at him. He squats to meet the little one on her level.

"Hi. I'm agent Gibbs."

The toddler stares at him with a look of terror. He shows the little girl his badge.

"I'm here to help you. Your mommy is waiting outside for you. Can you come with me?"

She nods, "Yes," she says quietly.

He lifts the little girl off the ground. She wraps her arms around his neck, and buries her head in his shoulder. He takes her down the hallway to her room. He notes the letters above her tiny bed. He grabs the stuffed dog lying on her bed. He hands it to her, and sits her on the floor.

"Isabella it's cold outside can you show me where your jacket is?"

She holds tightly to the scruffy looking dog. She opens the closet door. He grabs a jacket off a hanger for her. He helps her zip the jacket. He looks at a bag sitting on her dresser. He slings it over her shoulder, and moves towards her. She looks sleepy, it's already after eight o'clock. She wears a pair of pajamas with tiny stars on them. Without a word she pulls open a drawer, and retrieves a pair of socks. He watches her as she pulls them on. She closes the drawer, and moves towards him. She attaches herself to his leg.

"Isabella are you ready to go?"

She looks up at him, "Izzy," she whispers.

He grins, and reaches down for her, "Come on Izzy, let me take you to your mommy."

She nods, and he lifts her off the ground once again. He exits the room, and starts down the stairs. Halfway down he calls out for Ducky.

"Duck I need you to…"

Ducky cuts him off, "Everything is covered. You can come down."

Gibbs turns to the toddler, "Izzy we're going to play a game. I need you to close your eyes really tightly. Keep them closed until I say to open them. If you can do that I'll get you some candy."

She nods in agreement. She closes her eyes, and he proceeds down the stairs. He makes a beeline for the door. He closes the door behind them, and then looks at the little girl in his arms.

"You can open them."

Her bright eyes pop open. He pulls a sucker out of his jacket pocket, and hands it to her.

"Thank you."

He carries her over to the car. He hands her to the Marine General.

"Mommy," she hugs her tightly.

She puts the little girl into the backseat of the car. She straps her in, and places the bag next to her. She closes the door, and turns towards Agent Gibbs.


	2. Cold Hard Facts

"Am I free to go?" She questions.

"I need to ask you a few questions," he reveals.

"I have a few questions of my own."

"Who was with your daughter?" He quizzes.

"I believe that you already know that."

He studies the hardnosed Marine who wears stars on her shoulders.

"Can you tell me why my house is a crime scene, now?"

"Your neighbors called in local law enforcement after they heard shots being fired."

"And now you're here?"

"They called us," he confirms.

"The only people who were supposed to be at my house were my daughter, and her father."

"I know."

"Now there is crime scene tape up in my driveway, and a NCIS team in my house."

"I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"He had an ID in his pocket. You will have to come down to the morgue at some point and identify the body."

She purses her lips, and nods her heads, "Okay," she says flatly.

He scrutinizes her facial expression, "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"He's dead," she responds matter-of-factly still failing to show any emotion at all. He makes note of her response to the news.

"How long have you lived here?" He probes.

"Seven years."

"Were you happily married?"

"Blissfully separated," she retorts.

"Custody disputes?"

"No. We agreed to do what is best for our child."

"I am going to need a number where I can contact you."

"Agent Gibbs I already gave my phone number to Agent McGee. I believe that you know where to find me if you need to contact me if you have any more questions."

"I'm not done."

"What do you want to know?"

"Where were you?"

"I was stuck in traffic for an hour. If you're looking for a confession you won't find one."

"You're telling me that you had no motive?"

"I had plenty of motive, every woman who has been married for any amount of time does. I didn't kill him. I wouldn't kill him with my child in the house."

"Which is it, you wouldn't kill him, or you wouldn't kill him with your child in the house?"

"I wouldn't kill him, period."

"You were separated. Divorces can be ugly," he points out.

"I didn't kill him."

"Do you know who did?"

"He was a naval officer with a contract at the Pentagon. He has a long list of enemies."

"Any one in particular stand out to you?"

"No."

"Can you tell me where to start?"

"He had an uncanny ability to piss people off."

"I need something more to go on."

"The top right hand drawer of the desk in his office. There is a list of cases he has tried. There are a few other names on that list. Potential enemies are highlighted in yellow."

"No one sticks out in your mind?"

"I am done here. My daughter needs to go to bed," she opens the car door.

He grips her arm, she turns her head in his direction

"I get that you're a General, and a lawyer, but that doesn't mean that this conversation is over."

"Understood," she nods as she climbs into the car.

* * *

><p>He stands in the squad room sipping his cup of coffee. He shoots his glance in McGee's direction. McGee instinctively meets his gaze.<p>

"Any luck with that list, McGee?"

"I am sifting through that list boss. I haven't managed to track down all of the names yet, but I have eliminated quite a few, who are still incarcerated."

He shifts his attention to Agent DiNozzo's desk. DiNozzo starts without a single word from Jethro.

"I have reviewed their financials for the past ten years."

"Anything unusual?"

"Do you know what their biggest expense was?"

"I assume their house."

"And their second biggest expense?"

"Probably their cars."

"Wrong, boss. Their second biggest expense was fertility treatments. Seven years ago they started spending large sums of money on fertility treatments, and tests. They spent five years and hundreds of thousands of dollars."

"Is there something else?"

"Something that just doesn't sit right with me, I guess," he admits.

"Spit it out."

"If you spent that much time, money, and effort trying to create a family why would you separate once you succeeded?"

Before Gibbs can ponder the question his phone begins ringing. He pulls the silver flip phone out of his pocket, and puts hit to his ear.

"What have you got, Abby? Okay, I'll be right down," he hangs up.

He enters the lab with Caf Pow in hand. He places the caffeine filled cup on the stainless steel table between Abby, and her computer. She grins at him.

"What have you got for me?"

"Ballistics on the gun found at the crime scene match the bullets retrieved from the weapon."

"Fingerprints?"

"Absolutely."

"DNA?"

"Of course."

"Do you have a match?"

"Would I have called if I didn't?"

"Who is it?"

"Gibbs…" she begins.

"Abby, I'm waiting."

She presses a button on her keyboard, and a familiar face pops onto the screen.

"General…"

He cuts her off, "I know who she is. Do you know what this means?"

"Yes."

She studies his facial expression, "Something wrong?"

"The evidence that you're showing me points to her."

"And?"

"What DiNozzo found makes her look suspicious."

"But?"

"I guess that I'll just have to convince my gut."

"Is there something I can do to help?"

"This is a sensitive case. Abby, make sure that you dot all of your I's and cross all your t's."

"I always do."


	3. Shattered Dreams

Gibbs folds his arms in front of his chest as he stands behind the glass with McGee. McGee eyes him suspiciously. He clears his throat, and Gibbs looks in his direction.

"Yes, McGee?"

"You should be the one interrogating her," he points out.

"DiNozzo is perfectly capable of questioning her."

"She's not on the same level," he points out, "She isn't going to break for him."

Gibbs watches the conversation going on in the other room. He listens to each word carefully. He realizes that the only person who can ask the right questions is a fellow Marine. He sighs, and taps on the glass with his knuckles. DiNozzo vacates his seat, and exits the room. He joins Gibbs. Without a word he takes a seat next to McGee.

"You're giving up?"

"She is a Marine General, and lawyer. That is your cup of tea."

He exits the room without another word. He takes a deep breath, and enters the interrogation room. He closes the door quietly, and crosses the room. He pulls out a chair, and takes a seat across the table from her. He studies her body language. She sits in an upright position in her chair. She has a rigid posture. Both of her hands rest in her lap. Her cover lies on the table next to her. She wears her uniform. Every button, pin, and medal are in proper order. She is impeccably groomed. She looks at him without an ounce of fear, or hesitation.

"Ma'am," he begins.

She locks eyes with him, but says nothing.

"We found gun powder residue on your hands, and your uniform," he informs her.

"I am aware."

He flips open a manila folder. He pushes a picture over to her side of the table.

"We found your prints on that weapon."

He allows for a response. She doesn't bite.

"That weapon is registered in your name."

Again she refuses to take the bait.

"Your DNA is all over that weapon."

She looks into his icy blue eyes. Her face remains neutral. Her body language doesn't change. He stares into the eyes of a well trained Marine.

"That weapon was used to murder your husband."

"I didn't kill him," she repeats.

"General would you like a lawyer?"

"I don't need a lawyer. I didn't do anything."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. I wasn't there."

"I am not talking about the death of your husband. I am talking about the death of your marriage. You married then Captain Rabb nine years ago. The two of you moved to England for less than year, before you returned stateside. You refused to give up your career as a Marine. You returned stateside, and he stayed in London and finished out the year. My team went through your financial records. There were a lot of flight between DC, and London in the six months he was there without you. Then your financials show years worth of fertility treatments. Two years ago you finally got the child that you had been trying so hard to create. So tell me, why did you choose to separate when you worked so hard to create a family with your husband?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Did you want to be married, or were you more concerned with having a child?"

"We spent so much time trying to have a child that we neglected our marriage. After Izzy was born things just fell apart."

"Why?"

"I had planned on giving up my career to stay home with her."

"What happened?"

"The day that she was born I found out that I was up for promotion."

"Brigadier General. That is a big deal. Was your husband resentful that you made rank before he did?"

"No."

"Once again you were unwilling to give up your career?"

"Are you questioning my abilities as a mother?"

"No. I am questioning your state of mind."

"I just wanted to give her everything."

"You thought that a nanny could raise her?"

"No."

"Your husband thought you should stay home with her?"

"We both made compromises."

"He worked three days a week so that he could stay home with her the rest of the time. He sacrificed his career for her. You didn't give up anything. You stayed in your billet. You were promoted to brigadier general. It made him resentful towards you, didn't it?"

"I am the one who filed for separation," she points out.

"You resented his connection with your daughter," he suggests, grasping at straws.

"Why would I resent his connection with our child?"

"Why did you file for separation?"

"I was the one who refused to give up on having a child. I became obsessed."

"It drove a wedge between the two of you?"

"I was crushed when I realized that I was never going to carry a child."

"So you used the gestational carrier?"

"Yes."

"That anger just festered, didn't it? It didn't go anywhere. What happened six months ago? All of a sudden you just decided that you didn't want to be married anymore?"

"That isn't what happened."

"Why did you file for separation?"

"We pushed each other too far."

"Why did you separate?" He pushes her.

She swallows hard, "Six months ago I found out that he cheated."

"That made you angry?"

"What made me the angriest was that I never saw it coming."

"Husbands cheat."

"I never expected him to cheat."

"Nobody does."

"I found out that he struggled with monogamy the entire time we were married. It wasn't just once."

"How many times?"

"At least a dozen with nearly as many women."

"You found out six months ago?"

"A year ago when one of them called the house," she nods in confirmation.

"You hated him for ruining your perfect life. He obliterated your happy family."

"We went to counseling. I didn't want my child to have to come from a broken home."

"He couldn't change?"

"It was too late."

"What do you mean?"

"I could have forgiven him for the infidelity."

"But you didn't?"

"I couldn't forgive him for failing our child. I just couldn't get past the fact that he was the reason my daughter won't grow up in a two parent home."

"So you killed him?"


	4. Revelations

"I was angry. The thought of putting a bullet in his brain crossed my mind, more than once."

"So you did?"

"Why would I do that? Why would I take both of my daughter's parents away from her? I wouldn't be that selfish. He might not have been a great husband, but he was an excellent father. I wouldn't have taken him away from my daughter, or his son."

Gibbs squints, and his forehead wrinkles, "His son?"

"One of his extramarital affairs resulted in a child," she reveals.

"That must have pissed you off. The two of you tried for years to have a child. Then he goes and impregnates another woman. She got to give birth to his child. She got to know what it felt like to feel their baby move."

"She had already given birth to his child. She was our gestational carrier."

"She gave him the son that he always wanted, the one that you couldn't."

"I didn't kill him. I was angry at him. I was angry at the world, but I didn't kill him."

"Your fingerprints and DNA are on the gun. You tested positive for gunshot residue."

"I went to the range yesterday."

"I want to believe you, but the evidence says otherwise."

"You have the wrong person."

"All of the evidence points to you, General MacKenzie."

"Maybe you should be questioning Maggie."

"The gestational carrier?"

"Yesterday Harm was awarded full permanent custody of Ben. She was supposed to drop him off today."

"Why aren't her prints on the murder weapon?"

"I don't even know why my prints are on the weapon."

He furrows his brow, "What do you mean?"

"I just bought the gun a few months ago. I've never taken it out of the box. It has been in the safe since the day I brought it home. I don't know how my fingerprints, or DNA got on the gun."

"You're trying to convince me that you were framed?"

"I know that I didn't kill Harm. What was time of death?"

"Nineteen twenty nine."

"At nineteen twenty nine I was stuck in traffic at an accident in the intersection of Mill, and Cross."

"Were there cameras?"

"It was at a stoplight, of course there were cameras. I know that the evidence says I did it. I had motive, and means. I didn't kill him."

"I am surprised that you didn't ask for a lawyer," he admits.

"I am a lawyer," she reminds him.

"How do you know that you're not trying to play the system? You think that because you are a female Marine, a JAG, and a General people will believe that you couldn't possibly have murdered your husband?"

"You don't trust lawyers."

"Never have," he admits.

"When you prove that I didn't kill him, I will take you to dinner, and prove to you that I am trust-worthy."

He grins at her, "Nice try, counselor."

He leaves the room in a hurry. He makes a beeline for Abby's lab.

"Abby were there any anomalies with the gun?"

"I was just about to call you. I found traces of latex on the gun."

"Latex?"

"That's not all. Most of the DNA recovered from the crime scene belonged to the victim, General MacKenzie, and Isabella."

"Most?"

"There was DNA from another child."

"Rabb's son, Ben."

"I didn't know there was a son."

"I just found out, myself."

"And there was DNA from Ben's mother."

"I doubt that General MacKenzie would have invited Maggie over," he comments as he leaves the lab.

* * *

><p>He enters the interview room with two cups of coffee. He hands one to the General. She eyes him suspiciously.<p>

"I didn't poison it," he insists.

She takes a sip of the coffee.

"I thought that you would appreciate a cup of coffee, since we hauled you in on your way to work this morning."

"You must have made this."

"I am glad that someone appreciates the coffee I make."

"Must be a Marine thing," she grins.

"I hope I added enough sugar," he studies her facial expression, and body language. He gets the impression that she is trying to flirt with him.

"You've been talking with my yeoman?"

"I do my research," he confirms.

"Can I go?"

"I have one more question."

"Okay," she nods in agreement.

"Can I talk to your daughter?"

"She's two," Sarah reminds him.

"She talks," he recalls.

"All of the time. She rarely shuts up," she reveals.

"Can I talk to her?"

"What are you hoping to find out?"

"The truth."

"She is with her Godmother."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, gunny."

Half an hour later he meets a toddler at the elevator. He leads them into the conference room. The blonde with her sits in the seat next to her. Gibbs sits at the end of the table.

"Isabella can I ask you some questions?"

"Yes," she grins. She has a headband controlling her unruly curls. She wears a pair of white tights, and a purple dress.

"Isabella, do you remember when we met yesterday?"

"Yes."

"I found you in the closet. Why were you hiding there?"

"Too loud."

"It was too loud? Did you hear voices?"

"Yes."

"Can you remember whose voices you heard?"

"Daddy's."

"Who else?"

"A girl."

"Was it your mommy?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"What did you hear after the loud voices?"

"I was hiding."

"Izzy, I know that you were scared, but it is really important that you tell me what you heard after the screaming."

"Bang, bang."

"Izzy do you know how many times you heard the banging sound?" He questions, knowing that it is a stretch.

She closes her eyes, "Bang, bang, bang," she opens her eyes, "One, two, three," she counts.

"Thank you, Izzy you've been a big help."

"Wait," she tells him as he tries to vacate his seat.

"Yes, Izzy?"

"The baby."

"What baby?"

"Ben was crying."

"You heard Ben?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Loud voices, bang, bang, bang, Ben crying," she explains.


	5. Resolution

He's just sat down on the couch when he hears someone knocking on his door. He furrows his brow, since no one who visits ever knocks. He shifts into a standing position, and heads to the door. He pulls it open, and finds a familiar face staring at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to say thank you," she admits.

He studies the woman. She looks different out of uniform. She looks more like a person, and less like a robot in her street clothes. She wears a pair of jeans, and a long-sleeved shirt under her jacket. She holds a paper bag.

"Come in," he motions.

"I hope that you haven't already eaten," she flashes a toothy smile.

"I haven't."

"I brought some food."

She follows him into the kitchen. He flips on the light, and retrieves some plates. She removes the containers from the bag. She takes a seat, and places her jacket on the back of the chair.

"There was some scuttlebutt about you today."

"That I murdered my husband?"

He grins, "We already cleared that one up."

"So what did you hear about me, Gunny?" She studies his facial expression.

"That you're retiring."

"Word certainly travels fast," she admits.

"So it's true?" He takes a seat.

"I will be retiring in the spring," she reveals.

"After how many years?"

"Twenty," she answers.

He looks at the containers, "You made this?"

"I know that I am not the picture of domestication, but I can cook. I also bake."

"Looks good," he smiles.

"Thank you."

"How is Izzy?" He wonders.

"She doesn't really understand. She keeps asking where her daddy is."

"Where is Izzy, tonight?" He furrows his brow.

"With her grandmother. Harm's mother came into town for the funeral. They're at Harm's apartment."

"Have you been back to the house?" He quizzes between bites.

"I put the house up for sale. I don't want Izzy to have to spend the rest of her childhood in a house that her father was murdered in."

"How are you going to manage?"

"I have great friends here who are more than willing to help out with Izzy."

"Do you have time off saved up?"

"Yeah."

"You found out that your husband died, and went to work the next morning."

"I didn't hear a question there."

"Why?"

"Does it matter?" She retreats.

"I think that you're a marine. You hear the call of duty, and out of habit it is difficult to ignore, no matter the circumstance."

"I didn't know how else to react. I knew that if I didn't go to work Izzy would drill me with a million questions. I can't help being reminded of her father whenever I'm with her. She has his eyes, and she acts so much like him."

"You know I don't usually have dinner with lawyers."

"You have a rule about that, don't you?" She cocks an eyebrow.

He just grins at her, and nods subtly.

"I hear that you have a lot of rules," she shows her hand.

He chews, and ignores the question. She glances at the bottle of water sitting in front of her. She furrows her brow.

"And here I thought that you were a man who only consumed, beer, coffee, and bourbon."

"I drink water, too."

"I am impressed that you have bottled water."

"I keep some in case of emergency," he admits.

"Define some?"

"There are several cases in the basement," he reveals.

"Are you a prepper?"

"Just a marine."

"Gibbs, thank you for believing me."

"You can call me Jethro, General."

She grins, "You can call me Mac."

"Mac, you make a mean pork chop," he shovels another bite into his mouth.

"Thank you."

"When is the service?"

"Two days. Can I ask you something?"

He nods.

"How did you know I didn't do it?"

"There were three gunshot wounds. You are a marine. I went through your service record. I know you wouldn't have needed three shots. I also know that you would have shot him in the head."

"Yeah, I would have."

"I couldn't picture you doing something, even in the heat of the moment that would permanently separate you from your child."

"I never knew that I could love someone like that, until the day that she was born."

"Your daughter is a more reliable eyewitness than the neighbors were. The neighbors insisted that they heard four shots. We combed every inch of the house. Only three shots were fired."

"I just wish she hadn't been home. I wish that I had gotten home earlier. I wish I could have saved him."

"You can't change it."

"It doesn't stop me from wanting to."

"No it doesn't," he agrees in a hushed tone.

They finish their meal. He vacates his seat, and heads to the sink. He proceeds to wash her container. He returns them to the bag they came in. He finds her standing in his living room. She stares at a pile of books.

"It's quite a collection you have here."

He grins, stopping next to her, "Decorated myself."

She surveys the room, "I can certainly see that."

She faces him. He holds out her container. She slips the paper bag from his hands.

"Thank you for dinner."

She smiles, as she stares into his mesmerizing blue eyes, "Thanks for believing me."

"Anytime, General."

"Well, Gunny, I suppose I should get going."

He doesn't say anything. She heads for the door. He spots her jacket on the chair. He grabs the jacket, and calls out.

"Mac, wait."

She stops at the front door, pivoting in his direction. He offers her the jacket. She smiles, "Thanks," she realizes their proximity. He lets go of the jacket. She finds herself staring into his eyes. She finds herself taking a step closer. She feels her pulse quicken as she stares at the silver haired fox.

He finds himself mesmerized by her smile. Without much thought, or provocation he presses his lips to hers. She doesn't push him away. She kisses him back. She drops her jacket on the floor. He hears the paper bag hit the floor too.


	6. Hard To Love

She never pushes him away. She doesn't ask him to stop. With her lips on his standing in front of his door she slips out of her shoes. Articles of clothing hit the floor one at a time as he leads her out of the room. He doesn't focus on the past as he leads her up the stairs. He holds tightly to her hand as they climb the stairs. He leads her into his room. She feels his hands on her skin, and she doesn't retreat, or hesitate. She leans against the bed, and he kisses her neck. She pulls him closer towards her.

* * *

><p>Hours later she opens her eyes, and finds herself in an unfamiliar room. She allows herself a moment to orient. She glances around the room. She looks to her right, and finds a man lying in bed next to her. She internally groans, as she slips out from under his arm. She uses her marine training to silently slip out of his bed. She proceeds to collect her clothing a piece at a time. By the time she reaches his front door she's fully clothed. She slips on her shoes, and makes a beeline for her vehicle.<p>

She finds her car parked at the curb in front of his house. She unlocks the vehicle, and climbs into the back. She retrieves the uniform hanging up in the back. She finds her bag behind the seat, in the cargo area. She unzips the bag that she keeps in case of emergencies. She proceeds to change into clean garments. She places her dirty clothes in an empty plastic shopping bag. She pulls on her uniform, and catapults herself into the backseat, with her keys in hand. She places her shoes on the front passenger's seat, and slips over the console into the front seat. She fastens her seatbelt, and puts the key in the ignition. She pulls away from the curb, and heads towards work.

She never once glances at the clock, already aware of exactly how long it will take her to get to work. She pulls into her parking space some time later. She flips down the visor, and checks her reflection in the mirror. She applies a layer of makeup, and combs her hair. She grabs her briefcase, and her cover, and exits the vehicle. She slips into her office three minutes before it is necessary for her to be there.

* * *

><p>DiNozzo studies his co-worker. He watches as McGee meticulously cleans his keyboard. DiNozzo vacates his seat, and moves towards McGee's desk. He closely inspects McGee's work. He glances down at the watch on his wrist.<p>

"McGee it's not like boss to be late. Do you think he had a romantic encounter with a certain brunette marine general?"

"I don't think he would get involved with a suspect," McGee argues.

"She's no longer a suspect."

"What about rule thirteen?"

DiNozzo scratches his head, "I momentarily forgot that tidbit."

McGee's face scrunches in dissatisfaction, "You forgot the rules?"

"I forgot that she was a lawyer."

"She is the head of JAG. How could you forget that?"

"All I saw was a uniform," he responds.

"Really? That's all you saw?"

"There were some other things I noticed," DiNozzo admits as he begins to fall into a daydream.

McGee falls silent. DiNozzo feels a hand swiftly smacking the back of his head. He turns around, and finds Gibbs in his personal space. He takes a sip of coffee and then asks, "What did you notice?"

"Nothing, boss," he lies.

"No, DiNozzo, this is something I'd like to hear."

"She has shiny stars on her shoulders, and quite a few commendations. That's what I noticed."

"Really? A beautiful woman, and all you noticed were the stars on her shoulders?"

"That is all that I care to mention," DiNozzo takes a step to the right.

"Grab your gear, we've got a case," He informs his motley crew.

* * *

><p>She's standing in the kitchen of her deceased husband's apartment wearing a pair of jeans, and a t-shirt, when someone knocks on the door. She places the lasagna in the oven, and closes the door. She turns to answer the door, and finds a toddler standing in front of her with her arms folded in front of her. Izzy's wild hair is nearly tamed in a pair of pigtails.<p>

"Feed me!" She growls.

"I've got to get the door," Mac tries to step around her.

"Mommy!" The dramatic two year old stomps her foot.

Mac rolls her eyes, and lifts the little girl off the hardwood. She makes a beeline for the door despite Izzy's best attempts to squirm away. She unlocks the door, and pulls it open. She finds a familiar pair of blue eyes standing on the other side. He grins at her. She stands inside the apartment with squirming toddler on her hip.

"I wasn't expecting you," she admits.

Before he can explain his presence Izzy joins in the conversation, "Hi," she waves.

"Hi, Izzy."

She reaches for him. He reaches out just in time to catch her as she leaps from her mother's arms like a spider monkey.

"I am sorry I should have warned you, she's half girl, half monkey," Sarah apologizes.

"It's okay."

"What brings you by?" She questions.

He holds out a plastic container, "You forgot your container."

She takes the container from him.

"Would you like to come in? We're about to have dinner."

"I don't want to interrupt."

"Dinner should be done in five minutes. Maybe you can keep her entertained long enough for me to actually set the table."

He nods in agreement, and follows her into the apartment. He closes the door behind them. She places the plastic container on the counter, and proceeds to remove the fine china from the cabinets. He watches as she sets three places at the table in the eat-in kitchen. He places the squirmy toddler on the island.

"Do you have ants in your pants?"

She smiles, "No."

"Then why are you so squirmy?"

"Ooh ooh," she grins.

"You're a monkey?"

She nods.

"So you're going to eat bananas for dinner?"

She furrows her brow, "No."

"Monkeys eat bananas," he informs her.

She makes a face, "Yuck."

"Monkeys eat bugs too," Gibbs teases.

"Bugs?"

"Big juicy ones," he continues.

Mac returns to the kitchen, "What are the two of you talking about?"

"Bugs!" Izzy makes a face of disgust.

"Well, monkey girl, if you would like to eat lasagna for dinner I suggest you turn back into a little girl," she responds as she removes the lasagna from the oven. She places it on the stove.

"Mommy?"

"Agent Gibbs do you hear a little girl?"

"It almost sounds like Izzy."

"Me, me!" Izzy shrieks.

"It can't be Izzy," Mac explains, "she turned into a monkey."

Gibbs pretends not to see the little girl. She taps him on the arm. He turns and grins at her.

"Are you Izzy?"

"Yes. Feed me!"

He helps her off the counter. She races over to the table. Mac carefully carries the casserole dish over to the table. Gibbs takes a seat, and surveys the china.

"I apologize Harm decided to only acquire child friendly dinnerware. I hope that you don't mind eating off a plate has ears."

"Feed me!" Izzy demands.

"As you can tell, that is her favorite phrase."


	7. Whatever She's Got

After quite some time she manages to wrangle her monkey into bed. The little girl passes out with in just a few moments. She exits the bedroom, and heads back into the dishes. She finds Gibbs standing at the sink. She grins.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" He responds.

"You don't have to do the dishes. I am perfectly capable."

He places a dish on the drying rack, "I'm already finished."

"You didn't have to do the dishes. I…"

"You were kind enough to invite me to dinner, it was the least that I could do."

"Thank you for bringing my container back."

"How is the house hunting going?"

"I hate house hunting. I would be content to stay here, except for the fact that everything reminds me of him."

"It was his apartment."

"I can't even go in his room. I sleep on the couch. Sometimes I sleep with Izzy in her bed."

"She's something else."

"Thank you for entertaining her."

"Anytime."

"You have a gift," she admits.

"Just a little experience," he replies, "I should get going."

"Yeah," she nods.

"You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

"Thanks for stopping by."

"Of course."

She walks him to the door. He leaves the apartment, and she locks the door behind him. She hopes to squeeze in a shower after collecting all of Izzy's toys from the living room floor. Before she can make it to the living room she hears tiny bare feet moving towards her at a high rate of speed. Izzy runs towards her, wearing a little mermaid nightgown.

"Izzy why are you up?"

The two year old attaches herself to Mac's leg. Mac scoops her off the ground. She takes her over to the couch, and cuddles up with her. She kisses her on the cheek.

"It's time for bed, monkey."

"No."

"Izzy, please. Mommy is tired."

Izzy nestles her head in Mac's shoulder, "Mommy?"

"Hm?" She holds her close.

"Where's daddy?"

She takes a deep breath, and looks her daughter in the eyes. She feels her breath hitch, but she powers through with an answer, "Daddy's gone."

"Where?"

"Far away."

"I want daddy."

"I know Izzy, but daddy is gone far away. He's not coming back."

She scoots into a different position. She places her head against Mac's chest. She places her ear against her heart. She closes her eyes as Mac rubs her head. Eventually she falls asleep.

* * *

><p>DiNozzo sits behind his desk, with a pensive look on his face. It's late at night, and he is one of that last people left in the room. He looks up, and finds Gibbs standing in front of his desk.<p>

"Go home," Gibbs instructs him.

"What's the point?"

"Go home. Get some rest."

"Can I ask you something?"

He sighs heavily.

"Boss, why is it that we always find ourselves wanting what we can't have?"

"I don't know," he shrugs.

"It's like your attraction to lawyers. You know that you should avoid the temptation, but you still find yourself tempted."

"Are we talking about you, or me?"

"Me."

"You want a wife," he answers.

DiNozzo furrows his brow, "I never said that."

"Stop looking in a bar for her," Gibbs suggests.

"But…."

Gibbs cuts him off, "And go home."

Gibbs settles into his desk as DiNozzo packs his gear. He sits behind his desk as he watches DiNozzo leave. He stares blankly at his computer screen. He reaches forward, and flips the monitor off. He finds himself wondering if anyone ever gets it right. Four failed marriages, and DiNozzo was looking to him for advice. He rolls his eyes at the mere idea. Her realizes that he doesn't have the answers. He can't even answers DiNozzo's questions. He vacates his seat, and heads home.

He makes a beeline for the basement when he arrives home. He flips on the light, and grabs his sand paper. He carefully sands each piece of wood as if it is a delicate piece of artwork. As he sands he realizes that his usual coping mechanism can't seem to quiet his soul tonight. He leans against his work bench, and finds him thinking about a hazel eyed little girl.

Her tenacity reminds him of another little girl. He thinks about his little girl. The little girl he never got to see grow up. He tries to push her memory from his mind, but he can't. He finds himself thinking back to when Kelly was that small. He goes over the things he could have done differently. The ticking clock on the wall reminds him that it's getting late. Too late, he thinks to himself. He glances at the time, and tosses the sandpaper onto the work bench. He glances at a bottle of bourbon, and laughs to himself. He heads up the stairs, flipping the light off on his way. He closes the basement door, and heads to the living room. He takes a seat on the couch, and stares at the walls around him.

The quietness of the room strikes him. He remembers when the house was filled with laughter. The only thing that he can hear is the sound of the washing machine spinning in the other room. The ceiling fan whirs overhead. He closes his eyes, and allows the ambient noise to lull him to sleep. The sound of the alarm on the washing machine brings him back to consciousness. He heads into the laundry room, and tosses his clothes into the dryer.


	8. Here Comes Goodbye

He enters the morgue, and finds Ducky examining a body. He stops next to the autopsy table. He exhales, and asks his usual question.

"What have you got for me, Ducky?"

"Cause of death was exsanguination. That is all I can tell you at this point."

"Thanks, Duck," he turns to leave.

"Jethro?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem awfully pensive lately," he points out, "Anything in particular on your mind?"

"Nope," he insists.

"You haven't been thinking about a certain brunette JAG General, have you?"

"No, Ducky."

"Maybe you should consider acting on some of those feelings," Ducky suggests.

"It's not going to go anywhere."

"How can you be certain?"

"She was a murder suspect."

"You cleared her name."

"We both have too much baggage to bring to the table."

"Your four marriages, and her small child?"

He nods, "Yeah, something like that."

"She just lost the man that she was married to for nine years."

"Ducky I've got to go see Abby."

He leaves the squad room, and jumps on the elevator. He finds himself consumed in thought as he heads into the parking lot. He is completely wrapped up in the thought of a certain brunette one star general who he let walk away. He clicks the uses the automatic starter and the engine turns over. As he approaches the car he notices a figure sitting in his front seat.

When he reaches the car he unlocks the doors, and takes a seat in the driver's seat. He looks to his right, and finds a familiar face in his passenger's seat. He closes the door, and furrows his brow.

"I was just thinking about you," he admits.

"You're not going to ask…"

He cuts her off, "I assume that car thief is somewhere in your skill set," he guesses

"Maybe," she responds coyly.

"What are you doing in the front seat of my car?"

"Waiting on you," she admits.

"I gathered that. Have you been waiting long?"

"No."

"Why are you waiting for me in the car?"

"I figured you would have to go home eventually."

"You could have waited in your car."

"I didn't want to miss you."

"General?"

"I wanted to apologize, but I won't because I have heard that there is a rule against that."

He tilts his head, "What do you have to apologize for?"

"I didn't want you to get the wrong impression."

He furrows his brow, "You're going to have to be more specific."

"About me."

"What about you?"

"I am not some lonely widow who…"

He cuts her off, "I know that."

"I was emotionally separated from him for a long time before there was a legal separation."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"I feel as if I do."

"Weeks after the fact?"

She grins, "I don't have many nights off."

He breaks eye contact, and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out his phone. He waves it in the air.

"This still works."

"From what I've heard you have a tendency to be unreachable."

"You've heard a lot about me, and none of it from me."

"True."

"I would have answered your call."

"Maybe you should take me to dinner and tell me about yourself."

"There's not much to say."

"How many times have you been married?" She jokes.

"About twice as many as you have."

"Both of my husbands are dead. I have a pattern."

He grins, "So do I."

"Redheads?"

"Those too."

"How would you describe it?"

"Women way out of my league."

"I see," she nods.

"You said that you were hungry?"

"I could eat."

"How do you feel about diner food?" He queries.

"That depends, do they serve hamburgers?"

"All night long."

"What are we waiting for?"

They have just sat down at their booth at the diner when Mac's phone rings. She pulls the phone from her pocket, and presses it to her ear.

"General MacKenzie," she answers out of habit, "Okay. I'll be right there," she hangs up.

"Everything okay?"

"I am so sorry, I have to go. Rain check?" She vacates the booth.

He follows her to the door. She turns to him.

"You're my ride," she recalls.

He nods, "Where are we headed?"

"The sitter just called, Izzy is sick."

"I'll take you home."

She enters the apartment, and finds her daughter passed out on the couch wearing nothing but a pull-up, and a pair of pigtails. She finds Harriet in the kitchen scouring the floor.

"What are you doing?" Mac raises an eyebrow.

"Apparently I still have a lot of things to teach my son."

Mac glances back over at the couch. A.J. sits on the couch holding Izzy while she sleeps.

"He's fifteen," Mac points out.

"And he can't handle a little puke. He called me completely hysterical, and then he hung up, and called you. I literally left for five minutes to drop off uniforms at the dry cleaner."

Mac grins, "It's okay."

She leaves the kitchen, and heads into the living room. She takes a seat next to A.J. on the couch. She reaches for Izzy. He carefully passes the sleeping toddler over to her.

"What happened?"

"One minute we were playing with blocks. She was laughing maniacally because she kept knocking my tower over. Next thing I know she started puking everywhere. It was a like the poltergeist."

"I knew that I should have kept her home from daycare today. They said there was a nasty bug going around. You guys can go. Thank you so much for watching her."

"We were only here for half an hour," A.J. points out.

"I've got it from here."

Harriet, and A.J. leave the apartment. Mac snuggles Izzy on the couch.


	9. The Dance

She spends the rest of the night dodging puke, and trying to comfort a sick little girl. Eventually the puking stops, and they both pass out on the couch with all of the lights in the living room on. She jerks into consciousness hours later. She lays Izzy on the couch, and runs out of the room. She manages to make it to the kitchen trashcan. She heaves into the trashcan.

Hours later when the alarm rings she calls the office, and informs them that she won't be in. She crawls back into Izzy's bed with her, and falls back asleep. She is awakened by the sound of someone knocking on her door. She slips out of the twin sized bed, and heads to the door wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of purple pajama bottoms. She checks the peephole, and pulls the door open.

"Don't come in," she warns.

"Ebola?" He guesses.

"Stomach virus. It is contagious, and vengeful."

He holds out a bowl.

"I couldn't be hungry if I tried."

"Jello," he reveals.

"Thank you. I will invite you to come in, sometime after I disinfect the whole place with Lysol."

"I just thought that I would stop by, and see if you needed anything."

"That was so thoughtful. I am sorry that I ruined your dinner."

"I ate my dinner."

"I would love to hear about it some other time."

"Is Izzy feeling any better?"

"She'll be running around like a terrorist the instant her feet hit the floor. She stopped puking a while ago."

"What about you? Are you going to make it?"

"I certainly hope so," she nods.

He studies her appearance, "You still look a little green around the gills."

"I still feel pretty green."

"I should get going."

"Right, you've got to go to work. Thank you for the Jello."

"I'm going to hold you to your promise," he adds as he turns to leave.

"I am a Marine, I always keep my promises."

That afternoon she finds herself in Izzy's room picking piles of toys up off the floor. She tosses them into her toy box, and proceeds to Lysol all of the surfaces in her daughter's room. Izzy naps soundly in her bed. She leaves the bedroom with hopes to get to sit on the couch and read a book in peace for a few minutes before her daughter wakes up. She's halfway down the hallway when she is forced to deviate from her course. She makes a detour in the bathroom. After fighting, and losing to the stomach virus once again she manages to retire to the couch.

* * *

><p>That evening he's at home working on his boat when his phone begins ringing. He pulls the phone out of his pocket, and glances at the caller ID. He flips the phone open, and presses it to his ear.<p>

"Gibbs," he answers.

"Hey, it's Mac."

"Are you feeling better?"

"We have both successfully managed to keep down some jello."

"Anything I can do?"

"No. We're fine."

"Mac, you don't have to do this."

"Do what?"

"Let me down easy," he responds.

"Who said that I was letting you down easy?"

"The look that was on your face earlier today."

"I thought that I was ready to move on, but…"

"You just lost your husband, and you have a little girl who needs your undivided attention. I understand."

"I'm just not ready, yet," she admits.

"That is okay."

"Rain check?"

"Rain check," he agrees.

"Talk to you later," she hangs up.

He tosses the phone on the work bench, and turns towards his boat. He shakes his head, and mutters under his breath, "Until you realize you could do better."

* * *

><p>The following afternoon she's sitting on a park bench watching her daughter play. She hears footsteps moving towards her. She keeps her eyes locked on Izzy who plays on a slide twenty feet away.<p>

"I am surprised to see that you aren't up there with her, hovering like you usually do."

"I am too tired to chase her up and down the slide today, Harriet."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just tired."

"What's the story behind the silver fox who dropped you off last night?"

"He was the NCIS agent who was trying to put me away for murder."

"Why were you with him?"

"We went to grab a bite to eat."

"Is he the one who interrogated you?"

"Yes," she confirms.

"And you agreed to go to dinner with him?"

"I am the one who asked."

"You have a thing for him?"

She shrugs, "It doesn't really matter."

"Why not?"

"Now is not the time for me to even consider any sort of relationship. I have other priorities. I am a single parent now, and it consumes every second of my free time. I can't sacrifice my time with her for something that is probably never going to go anywhere."

"Just because you are a parent doesn't mean you have to give up on having fun."

"She just lost her dad. It's not fair to her."

"You don't cease to exist."

"For now I do. Everything I do is for her. I can't…"

Harriet cuts her off, "You do get to have time for yourself now and then. You don't have to feel guilty about that."

"I already do."

"What do you have to feel guilty about?"

"I should have gone straight home after work last night."

"Mac, life doesn't stop because her father died. I know that she was his world. I know that you still loved him, but your life didn't end the day he died. You have needs too."

Her cheeks turn red, before she can do anything to stop it. Harriet arches an eyebrow.

"Unless you've already had some of those needs met."

Mac breaks eye contact. Harriet elbows her.

"Did you already have some of those needs met?"

Her cheeks burn, "Maybe."

"By whom?"

"Can we talk about something else?"

"You slept with the NCIS agent who interrogated you, and tried to put you in prison for murdering Harm?"

"It was stupid."

"When did this happen?"

"Weeks ago."

She squeals, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"There is nothing to tell," she insists.


	10. I See Fire

Weeks pass, and he doesn't hear anything from her. He throws himself into his work as per usual. He tries his best to avoid even thinking about her, but it proves to be a rather unsuccessful endeavor. Unfortunately, every time he sees a marine uniform his mind drifts. He finds himself thinking of her often, despite the fact that he knows it can never work. He has too much baggage to make any relationship work.

* * *

><p>She sits in her office, with her back to the door. She is situated in her office chair, the one with the permanent imprint of her butt. The back of the chair is pushed up against the desk. Her arms are folded across her chest. She stares out the window, watching as the rain beats against the window pane. The sound of her yeoman on the intercom interrupts her train of thought. She scoots back, and spins the chair around. She listens to the yeoman's message.<p>

"Thank you," she responds. The voice situated at a desk on the other side of her door disconnects. She stares at the red light, indicating a call on line one. She picks up the receiver, and presses it to her ear.

"General MacKenzie," she answers out of habit, "You want me to come in when? Can I ask what this is regarding? Are you sure that is necessary? Is has to be today? Three o'clock? I would have to leave now. Okay, thank you," she hangs up the phone. She vacates her seat, and grabs her belongings. She exits the office.

"I am going to be out of the office for the rest of the day. Cancel the rest of my appointments."

"Yes ma'am."

She leaves the building, and heads into the parking lot. She tosses her belongings into the front seat, and pulls out of her parking spot. Twenty minutes later she pulls into another parking spot, and shifts the car into park. She removes the keys from the ignition, and exits the vehicle. She steps onto the sidewalk, and heads into the medical complex. She enters a waiting area, and is immediately escorted to an exam room. She sits in a chair, waiting for the doctor to come in. She's barely had time to get seated when someone knocks on the door. The physician enters the room carrying a clip board. He takes a seat next to her, on the stool nearby.

"Can I ask what this is about?"

"I reviewed the results of your physical."

"I don't understand how that is urgent. I was told that it was urgent for you to see me today."

"I told my receptionist that it was of utmost importance that I see you today."

"Is something wrong?"

"There are just a couple things that I wanted to go over with you."

"You couldn't go over them with me on the phone?"

"I thought that it was better to do so in person."

"What's going on? I had a routine annual physical."

"I know."

"This is not the first annual physical of mine that you have performed," she adds.

"No, it is not."

"You usually just call me," she adds.

"Do you know why I wanted to speak to you in person?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"I am going to have to refer you to another doctor."

She furrows her brow, "Why?"

"A specialist. She has a lot of experience."

"Why do I need referred to a specialist? What is going on?"

"You recall submitting lab work as part of your annual physical?"

"Yes," she nods.

"There were some anomalies."

"What kind of anomalies?"

"I understand that your husband recently passed away."

"Three months ago, but we had been separated for six months. Why are you bringing that up?"

"Are you sexually active?"

"No. Why are you asking?" Her voice cracks.

"Have you been recently?"

"Do I have some sort of STD?"

"No."

"HIV? Hepatitis?"

"No, Mac, it's nothing like that."

"Then why are you asking?"

"How long would you say it has been since you were sexually active?"

She furrows her brow, "About three months ago. Why?"

He nods, studying a document on the clipboard, "That seems consistent."

"Consistent with what? Are you going to tell me what's going on here?"

"Is there someone that I can call?"

"Call? For what? Why would you need to call someone? Is it that bad?"

"I just thought that you might like for someone to pick you up. You seem pretty upset."

"I am upset because you won't tell me what is going on."

"Are you familiar with Dr. Whitley?"

She shakes her head, "No."

"My nurse scheduled an appoint for you to see her first thing in the morning. Her office opens at oh six hundred."

"Why do I need to see her?"

She's sitting in the passenger's seat of her own car, staring out the front window. She is completely consumed by thought. She doesn't notice anyone approaching. When she hears knuckles tapping on her window she nearly jumps out of her skin. She turns, and looks at the face peering in her window. She unlocks the door, and the familiar face climbs into the driver's seat. She closes the door, and turns towards Sarah. Her face is bright red, and tear stained.

"Mac, are you okay?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"Why did you call me to take you home? What's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I thought that you had your annual physical a few days ago," Harriet comments as she fastens her seat belt.

"I did."

"Then why are you here?"

"They asked me to come back to the office. They found something in my lab work."

"Okay," she turns the key in the ignition. She shifts into reverse, and vacates the parking spot. They car ride is mostly silent. Sarah finally breaks the silence just a couple of blocks from her new house.

"He referred me to a specialist. I have an appointment with her in the morning."

"Do you need me to take you? I will, if you do."

"You have to get the kids to school."

"I cleared my schedule for tomorrow."

"I am planning on going to work."

"Mac, what's going on? What did he say?"

"He referred me to Dr. Whitley."

Harriet furrows her brow in confusion, "Dr. Whitley?"

"Yes," she nods in confirmation.

"I don't understand," she admits.

"You're not the only one," Mac retorts.


	11. Waves

He enters the house, as he thumbs through the mail. He heads into the kitchen, and dumps the mail on the kitchen. As he moves towards the stairwell to the basement he notices that the light is on. He grabs his firearm, quickly, and quietly moving down the stairs. He finds an intruder sitting on a stool in front of his work bench. He lowers his weapon, and places it on the work bench. He furrows his brow.

"What are you doing here?" He asks her.

"That's a good question," she admits.

"Are you going to answer?" He wonders.

She shrugs, "I'm not sure."

"If you're going to answer?"

"What I'm doing here."

"Well, Mac, I certainly don't know. Are you okay?"

"I don't know," she answers, flatly.

"Is Izzy okay?"

"She's fine."

"What are you doing here?"

"I guess that I came to talk to you," she admits.

"I'm listening."

"I don't know where to start," she admits.

"The beginning is good."

She vacates her seat, "This was a mistake."

"Wait," he begs, as she steps past him, moving towards the stairs.

She spins towards him, "It was a mistake coming here. I should go."

"Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing," she lies as she climbs the stairs. He doesn't chase after her. He lets her go.

* * *

><p>The following morning she finds herself in yet another doctor's office. The nurse does an extensive intake with numerous personal questions. After the nurse finishes obtaining answers to her questions, as well as a set of vital signs, the physician enters. She introduces herself. Dr. Whitley wears a pair of bright pink scrubs, and a white lab coat with her name embroidered above the pocket. She grins from ear to ear. Her bubbly personality overtakes the room. Sarah stares at the thirty something in disbelief. The smiling, bright eyed, chipper blonde appears to be young enough to still be in grad school. <em>Some specialist. This is the expert?<em> Sarah comments to herself.

"Are you ready?"

"Not really."

"Are you comfortable?" Dr. Whitley assesses her position.

"Not at all."

"Can I help you get more comfortable?"

"I think this is as good as it gets."

"I am ready whenever you are."

"That will be never, so I suggest that you start."

Dr. Whitley begins her exam. Sarah stares at the doctor's shiny, bright blue clogs. They are iridescent. In fact they are reminiscent of a bowling ball. They don't match her outfit in the slightest. She wears two different color socks. Sarah rolls her eyes, doubting the doctor's competence. The high pitch of the 'specialist's' voice brings her back to reality. Sarah's eyes shift her face. She listens to what she has to say, and follows her directions. She swallows hard, and eventually exhales. The physician mutters something in a cheerful tone.

"Shit," is all Mac can manage to get out.

After it's all over she exits the office as quickly as she can. She meets Harriet in the car. Harriet sits in the passenger's seat reading a magazine, listening to the radio waiting for Mac. Mac pulls open the passenger's side door. Harriet looks at Mac. She instantly picks up on her facial expression. Without a word she slides out of her seat, and exits the car. She heads to the other side of the vehicle, and once again climbs into the driver's seat. She hears Mac slam the car door. Harriet turns the radio off. She turns to face Mac.

"How was your appointment?"

"Terrible."

"Am I taking you to work?"

"I want to go home."

"Are you sure?"

"Do you think that I can just go home, and stay there?"

"For the rest of the day?"

"For the rest of my life?"

"No. At some point Izzy will get hungry, and you'll need to go to the grocery store."

"There is that."

"You told me that you didn't want me to come in."

"I didn't."

"What did she say?"

"She basically reiterated everything that I heard yesterday."

"Any new information?"

Mac hands her a stack of papers. Harriet goes through them one by one.

"That's it?"

She shakes her head, and reaches into her purse. She hands Harriet another stack. Harriet studies them one at a time.

"Are you okay?"

"No," Mac admits.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I would prefer to never discuss it."

"That is not an option."

"It's my preference."

"What are you going to do?"

"Currently I am freaking out," she admits.

"I know."

"I can't do this."

"Do you want to?" Harriet poses a better question.

The question sets her over the edge. The tears Mac has been holding back begin to flood from her eyes. The tears stream down her face as she loses all sense of composure. She begins sobbing. Her cheeks turn three shades of red. She ruminates on the question that has been posed. She deliberates on the situation at hand. She tries to evaluate the cost benefit analysis of the situation. She finds herself being sucked down the rabbit hole as her brain begins spouting off what if scenarios. She buries her head in her hands. She wipes the tears from her face, and tries to regain composure. She can't seem to maintain her composure for any length of time. She shifts, uncomfortably in her seat. She meets Harriet's glance. Harriet waits patiently for her to answer.

"I don't know," Mac finally responds.


	12. Guilt

"Talk to me," Harriet begs.

"I don't know what to say."

"What are you feeling?"

"Confused, mostly."

"I can imagine."

"Harriet, I'm not sure what to feel. I don't know what to think."

"Do you want me to take you home?"

"I just want to go home."

"Do you want me to stop and pick Izzy up on the way?"

"No."

"Okay."

They make it to her house fifteen minutes later. Harriet follows her in the front door. Mac surveys the chaos around them. The house is full of unpacked boxes. She maneuvers around them, ignoring every single box as she heads into the living room. She takes a seat on the couch. Harriet brews her a cup of tea. She then joins her on the couch. She sets the cup of tea on the end table next to Mac.

"This feels completely surreal. I can't believe that it's happening," she admits

"I can imagine. What did the doctor say, today?"

Mac swallows hard, "I'm definitely pregnant," she says flatly.

"I saw the sonogram pictures."

"I was there, and it still doesn't feel real."

"It will."

Her eyes once again fill with tears, "How did this happen? Twelve weeks ago I wasn't trying to get pregnant. The thought did not once cross my mind."

"It crossed mine," Harriet says under her breath.

Mac's eyes widen, "What?"

"You were so sick. It just didn't seem like a stomach virus."

"I assumed that it was food poisoning. It was just a couple of days, and then it went away. I didn't consider the possibility that I could be pregnant. Why would I? I am past child bearing age."

"Apparently not."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought that you knew."

"I didn't know. How could I?"

"Didn't you notice that you missed your period?"

"I have been so busy lately that I wouldn't have noticed if a spaceship landed in the backyard."

"What is your plan?"

"I don't have a plan."

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't have the first clue."

"Are you going to tell…"

Mac cuts her off, "No."

"Not yet?"

"Not at all."

"What if you…."

"Never," Mac answers.

* * *

><p>That night, she stands over her daughter's bed. She kisses the sleeping toddler's warm cheek. She brushes thick, dark hair out of her face. She pulls the covers up, and walks away from the sleeping angel. She flips off the light, and pulls the door closed halfway. She heads into the bathroom. She stops at the sink long enough to brush her teeth. She watches her reflection in the mirror as she moisturizes. She exits the room, flipping the light out on the way. She proceeds to her bedroom.<p>

She zig zags around boxes that remain unpacked. The room is illuminated by the lamp sitting on the single bedside stand situated on the right side of the bed. She stops at the end of the bed. She stares at the king sized bed. She avoids the thoughts of sharing this bed with anyone. She moves to the right side of the bed. She turns the bed down. Feeling hot she peels her flannel pajama pants off. She crawls into bed wearing an oversized JAG t-shirt. She pulls the covers over her, and flips off the light.

She lies there in silence, knowing that sleep will not come any time soon. She thinks about her daughter. She thinks about the day she was created. She realizes that she was not present at the time of her creation. Her genetic material was present in the lab as they combined her egg with Harm's sperm. Years later Izzy came to fruition.

There had been many fruitless attempts to create her. They tried the conventional method time after time. They tried so many times that it became more of a chore than pleasure. There was no pleasure in it. With each day the passion between them fizzled. She never doubted that she loved him. She never doubted for a single instant that she loved their daughter. From the second her existence was confirmed she felt love for her.

She lies on her right side, with her knees drawn to her chest. Her chest rises, and falls, and the magnitude of the past twenty four hours hits her like a ton of bricks. The floodgates open, and the tears fall uncontrollably. She sobs in the darkness of her master bedroom, alone in her king sized bed. Before she can stop it her hand finds a resting place on her stomach. Her breath hitches as it all becomes very real.

It's nothing that can be seen outwardly, at least not yet. There is, undoubtedly something, someone now residing in her long empty womb. She thinks about the creation of this baby. This baby was not created in a lab. It was created in the heat of the moment on a cold October night.

* * *

><p><em>For the first time in years she feels the heat of passion. She can't recall the last time she's felt this way. She feels her pulse quicken, and her blood pressure rise as he peels the shirt over her head. His kiss makes her feel alive. She feels more alive than she has in quite some time. <em>

_She doesn't feel a single pang of guilt as she crawls into the bed of stranger. She doesn't consider the consequence as they allow their hormones, and nature to take its course. She doesn't think past the moment as she calls out his name. _

* * *

><p>So why does she feel so damn guilty, now? Lying alone in her own bed, why does she feel this way? Her cheeks are tear stained, and her pillow is wet from all the tears. She feels conflicted about the whole thing. She had loved her husband. They separated before all of this happened, she reminds herself. Maybe she had stopped loving him long before their legal separation.<p>

It doesn't really matter now, because he's gone. He is gone, and he is never coming back. Now she is left with a daughter who is too young to understand his absence. She has a little girl who she wanted so badly for so long. She is a beautiful little girl who is the perfect combination of her mother, and father. She has an angelic face, and she's probably never going to remember her father.

She does feel guilty for that. She feels responsible for his death, she admits to herself. If she hadn't been so persistent about having a baby none of this would have happened. He would still be here, but Izzy wouldn't, and Izzy is all that she has left of him.


	13. What Do You Want

She's sought solace in the embrace of someone else. Now she must deal with the consequences of a one night stand. She has to face the reality of having another baby. This time is different though. She never planned for this one. She didn't ask for it.

Another tear hits her pillow. Maybe she doesn't even want it. She thinks of the list of reasons the doctor spouted off to her earlier in the day. Her breath hitches as she considers all the complications. There are so many ramifications for her to deal with, both personally, and professionally.

Before she can get sucked any further down the rabbit hole she hears tiny footsteps smacking against the hardwood floor. A little girl leaps onto the bed next to her. She rolls onto her left side to meet the little girl in the middle of the bed. She feels a tiny hand on her cheek. She kisses the palm of Izzy's hand.

"Don't cry," the little girl tells her.

She wipes the tears from her face. Izzy snuggles against her chest. She kisses the top of her head.

"I love you," she whispers.

"Night, mommy."

She sits in the kitchen the following morning watching Izzy eat her breakfast. The two year old sits in her booster seat, successfully feeding herself. She is fiercely independent. She feeds herself and dresses herself. She has been successfully potty-trained. She is happy, and healthy.

A baby would change everything. It would disrupt their whole world. Their routine would be disrupted. There would be sleepless nights, and crying. There would be diapers to change, and bottles to make. The thought of being outnumbered makes Sarah feel overwhelmed. She takes a sip off coffee, and suddenly it tastes bitter. She spits the tepid coffee back into the mug. She places the mug on the table, and looks up at Izzy. She finds a pair of hazel eyes staring back at her.

"Don't cry," Izzy tells her.

She exhales, "I'm okay," she lies.

"Mommy?"

"Huh?"

"Eat!" Izzy points to the soggy bowl of cereal sitting in front of Mac.

"Are you done?"

"Yes," she nods in confirmation.

"Is it okay if mommy stays home with you today?" She questions as she vacates her seat.

"No."

Mac empties the food into the garbage disposal. She rinses their dishes, and puts them in the dishwasher. She scoots Izzy away from the table, and lifts her out of the booster seat.

"Mommy wants to stay home with you today."

"No!"

"Okay. I'll got to work."

"Go!"

Mac rolls her eyes. They finish getting ready, and Mac grabs their bags, and heads to the car. She loads Izzy into the back, and drops her off at daycare. She goes onto work insistent upon focusing on the job, and not the train wreck that is her life.

That night after she puts Izzy to bed she's sitting in bed reading when the phone rings. She grabs the phone off the bedside stand, and presses it to her ear.

"Hello?" She answers.

"Hey I was just calling to check in," Harriet reveals.

"You don't have to check in."

"You were pretty upset when I left you yesterday."

"I still am."

"Is there anything that I can do?"

"You're doing it."

"What have you decided?"

"My daughter just lost her father. We just moved into a new house. Her entire life has changed over the past three months. She has a routine. She is potty trained. She feeds herself, and dresses herself. A baby would disrupt all of that. It would shift time, attention, and resources away from her. It would change everything. It's just me. It would be me, and two kids under the age of three. I don't think that I can do it."

"You can do anything."

"I don't want to have to. I don't want this baby to feel as if it's a burden. I felt that way my entire childhood, and I wouldn't want anyone to feel that way because of me. I don't have time for another child. This is the worst possible timing."

"So you've made a decision?"

"I don't want another child. I always knew that I wanted Izzy. We planned her. We waited for her. I loved her before I ever laid eyes on her. She was everything that I dreamed of. I wanted a child. That is all I ever considered, one child."

"You're having doubts?"

"I didn't plan this. I didn't expect this. I never wanted a second child. How could I ever get over that? How could I ever love another child the way that I love Izzy? I would feel guilty for being obligated to another human being."

"Love is multiplied, not divided when you have another child."

"I just don't know how I could make it work."

"So you've made up your mind?"

"Yes," she confirms.

"And there is nothing that I can do to change your mind?"

"No."

"When is the appointment?"

A lump forms in her throat, "I haven't made one."

"Let me know when you do."

"Okay."

"Goodnight," she hangs up the phone.

She returns the phone to its previous location. She places her book on the bedside stand, and flips off the lamp. She settles in her covers. She closes her eyes, but sleep doesn't come easily. After much tossing, and turning sleep finally envelopes her.

* * *

><p><em>She's sitting in her backyard, at a picnic table. She hears Izzy screaming. The little girl hops off the swing set, and runs towards her. She stops in front of Mac with a look of concern on her face. <em>

"_Where is my baby?" She asks. _

"_Izzy there is no baby," she answers._

"_Where is my baby?"_

"_What baby?"_

_She points at Mac's abdomen, "Where is it?" She cries. _

* * *

><p>She wakes up in a cold sweat, tangled in sheets. The hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up.<p> 


	14. Right Where I Need To Be

_ He pulls the door open before she even musters up enough courage to knock. She stares at a grey haired man with bright blue eyes. _

"_It's cold you should come in," he tells her._

_She enters the house, and he closes the door behind her. _

"_I'm surprised that you're here, after the other day."_

"_I hope that I haven't interrupted anything," she responds._

"_What brings you here?"_

"_I was just in the neighborhood."_

"_I doubt that," he argues._

"_I shouldn't have come."_

"_Why were you here the other day?"_

"_It's complicated."_

"_Obviously there was something on your mind. Would you like to talk about it?"_

_She points to the couch in the other room. He nods, and they head into the living room. She folds her arms across her chest, and purses her lips. She paces in front of the TV. _

"_You have something to say?" He questions._

"_You should have a seat," she points to the couch._

_He nods, and complies with her suggestion. He settles into a seat on the couch, "I'm sitting. Are you going to tell me why you're here?"_

"_I am. I am just going to come out and say it."_

"_Say what? What's going on? Is someone following you? Are you in danger? Why are you acting so out of character?"_

"_I'm pregnant," the words fall from her lips before she has the ability to stop them._

_His eyes widen, and he falls silent. She takes a step towards him._

"_Did you hear me?" She questions._

_He furrows his brow, "Congratulations."_

"_That's it?"_

"_Why are you telling me?"_

"_I thought that you should know."_

"_Why?"_

"_What do you mean, why?"_

"_Why would you tell me? I am very happy for you, but…"_

_She cuts him off, "It's yours."_

_He swallows hard. He studies her body language, and facial expression. He scratches his head, "Excuse me?"_

"_You are the other responsible party in the situation."_

"_Am I being punked? Did DiNozzo put you up to this?"_

_She shakes her head, "Why would you think that?"_

"_I thought that you couldn't have children. Didn't you have to have a gestational carrier?"_

"_Yes."_

"_You underwent years of fertility treatments."_

"_Yes," she confirms._

"_So this is some sort of joke, right?"_

"_No."_

"_What do you mean, no?"_

"_I'm pregnant," she repeats._

"_Are you sure?"_

"_I was just as mystified as you are."_

"_I doubt that."_

"_This shouldn't have happened. I don't know how it happened. The chances of me conceiving are something close to zero."_

"_Maybe there has been some sort of mistake," he suggests._

_She pulls a picture out of her pocket, and hands it to him. He stares at the black and white image. _

"_I tried to convince them that there was some sort of mistake. They assured me that there wasn't. I couldn't believe it, to be honest I am still not sure that I believe it."_

_He holds up the image, "This is real?"_

_She nods, "Yes."_

"_Why didn't you tell me sooner?"_

"_Sooner? I just found out two days ago. This picture is from yesterday."_

"_I don't know what to say."_

* * *

><p>She feels a hand on her arm, and she returns to reality from her daydream. She looks up from the magazine on her lap. She finds Harriet staring at her intently.<p>

"Are you ready?" She questions.

"Yes," she nods, placing the magazine on the coffee table in front of her.

She vacates her seat, and meets the nurse at the desk. Harriet remains seated.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Mac simply shakes her head. The nurse ushers her out of the waiting room down a long hallway. Harriet remains in the waiting room. Eventually Mac returns to the waiting room. Harriet tosses the magazine that she's reading onto the pile. She grabs her purse, and digs out the car keys.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," she nods with a solemn look on her face.

The walk to the parking lot is silent. Sarah climbs into the passenger's seat. Harriet positions herself in the driver's seat. They're halfway to their destination before either of them says anything. Harriet pulls up to the stop light. She looks over at her former colleague. Mac stares out the passenger's side window. She is uncharacteristically quiet. She seems completely off today. She wears a Navy hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants. Harriet can't help but ask the obvious.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she answers flatly, refusing to make eye contact.

"To be honest I didn't know that you owned a pair of sweatpants."

"I found them in one of the boxes when I was unpacking."

The light turns green, and the conversation evaporates. Ten minutes later Harriet pulls into Mac's driveway. The passenger's side door is open before the car is even in park.

"Do you want me to stay with you for a while?"

"No," she slides out of the car. She slams the car door, and heads up the driveway to the front door of the house. Harriet watches her as she disappears into the house. She removes her phone from the console. She sends her a text message.

Sarah takes a seat on the couch. She ignores her vibrating phone. She sits on the couch in silence. She leans forward, pressing her elbows into her legs. She buries her head in her hands. The tears start to freefall. She doesn't try to stop them. She doesn't attempt to catch them. She ignores her desire to maintain composure. She allows herself to be enveloped by a whirlwind of emotion caused by the consequences of the action she's just taken.


	15. Higher Standards

Feeling completely emotionally drained she lays down on the couch. She falls asleep within a matter of minutes. An hour later she is awakened to the sound of her phone. She opens her eyes, and rolls towards the coffee table. She grabs the phone, and unlocks the screen. The high pitched alarm screams at her. The attached memo reminds her what time it is. She vacates her seat on the couch, and grabs her car keys.

She makes it to her predetermined destination just in time. She enters the building, and finds a hoard of toddlers packing their belongings into tiny backpacks. She maneuvers through the sea of parents and children. She finds her daughter sitting on a bench holding her backpack, waiting on her. She lights up when she sees her. She jumps off the bench, and runs towards her. She attaches herself to her mother's leg like a tick.

"Are you ready to go home?"

"Yep."

Mac slips the pink princess backpack from Izzy's hands. She leads Izzy through the crowd to the exit. She holds tightly to her hand as they walk through the parking lot to the car. Mac unlocks the car door, and tosses the bag into the backseat. She assists Izzy into her car seat. She secures the toddler in a five point restraint. She kisses Izzy's forehead. Izzy gives her a questioning look.

"Is something wrong, little miss?" Sarah questions.

Izzy doesn't say anything, she just stares at her. Mac looks down. She sees what Izzy's looking at.

"I'm not wearing my uniform," she realizes.

"Why?"

"Why are you wearing your polka dot dress again?"

Izzy pouts, "Mommy!"

"Watch your fingers," she responds stepping back to close the door.

When they get home Izzy crawls onto the couch, and grabs the remote control. Mac enters the living room, and finds the toddler flipping through the channels. She positions herself between the couch, and the TV.

"Mommy! Move!"

Mac gives her a disapproving look, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Look, mommy," she points at the TV.

She doesn't move. She remains with her back to the TV. "No Dora tonight."

"Mommy!" Izzy remarks, obviously appalled.

"You have to pick up your toys first," Sarah reminds her.

"No!"

"Would you like to go sit in time out?"

"Dora, please," she begs.

Mac turns towards the pile of toys strewn across the living room floor. She shakes her head.

"No. You dumped your entire toy box out this morning. You need to pick them up."

"No!"

Mac extends her hand, "Give me the remote Izzy."

She furrows her brow, "No."

"Now!" She finds herself in a battle of wills with the two year old.

Izzy holds the remote over her head.

"Don't you dare, missy," Mac warns.

She throws the remote. She folds her arms across her chest in defiance. Her facial expression immediately changes as she notices Mac's facial expression. She looks up at Sarah.

"Sorry."

Mac scoops the toddler up off her seat on the couch. She carries her over to the stairs. She sits her on the second stair, and squats beside her.

"You're going to sit here because you didn't listen."

Izzy doesn't argue. Mac heads into the kitchen and sets the timer. She leans against the counter, wondering where she's gone so wrong. She decides not to jump on that train of thought. She heads into the pantry and tries to locate something for dinner. She grabs a box of macaroni and cheese, already feeling completely defeated.

She closes the pantry door, and lowers herself to the floor. She leans against the door. She swallows hard trying to keep the tears at bay. _What am I doing? Where did I go so wrong? _She asks herself. _I am doing a terrible job. She's two, and I can't convince her to listen to me. How am I going to convince her when she's a teenager? _She looks at the box of macaroni and cheese in her lap. She's still wearing a pair of sweat pants, and a hoodie. She can only imagine how she must look to her daughter.

Izzy is used to seeing her in uniform. What a cop out. Sweatpants, and instant macaroni and cheese for dinner. She had vowed to hold herself to higher standards as a parent.

"I'm a failure," she admits, aloud. She hears the timer on the microwave beeping. She leans her head against the door. Part of her wants to stay in the pantry and hide. She sits there for another moment, wondering how long it will take Izzy to notice that she's gone. Her answer comes quicker than she expected.

"Mommy!" Izzy screams from the other room.

She grabs the box of macaroni, and cheese, and vacates her seat on the floor. She opens the door, and exits the pantry. She places the box on the kitchen counter, next to the stove. The microwave timer continues to blare.

"Mommy!" Izzy shrieks as Mac attempts to turn the timer off.

"Mommy! I'm sorry! Mommy?"

She rounds the corner, and finds Izzy sitting on the stairs near tears. She takes a seat next to her.

"Mommy," she sniffles.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," she apologizes.

"You look like you're about to cry," Mac comments.

Izzy doesn't say anything. She proceeds to wrap her arms around Mac's neck. She clings to her tightly. Sarah kisses her cheek.

"It's okay. I'm right here," Sarah reassures her. She lets go of her. Isabella scoots off her lap. She stands up, and follows Mac into the kitchen.

"Izzy I need you to go in the living room and pick up your toys so I can get dinner ready."

She finds the two year old attached to her leg once again. She squats down next to her.

"Izzy, I'll be right here."

She reluctantly lets go, and leaves the room. The pasta is nearly done, and Mac realizes that it is eerily quiet.

"Izzy what are you doing in there?"

Izzy doesn't answer her. She heads over to the sink, and strains the pasta. She returns the pasta to the sauce pan, and pours in the rest of the ingredients. Once she's certain that they're mixed she turns the burner off, and covers the pan with a lid. She wipes her hands on a dishtowel, and makes a beeline for the living room. She finds Izzy sitting on the floor in a pile of toys.

"What are you doing?"

"Playing," Izzy answers.

"You are supposed to be picking up," Sarah reminds her.

Izzy leaps off the ground, and races over to her. She holds out her baby doll.

"I'll hold onto her while you pick up the rest."

"Mommy!"

Sarah surveys the pile. It is pretty clear to her what has happened. Halfway through returning the pile to the toy box Izzy stumbled upon her doll, and efforts ceased. She exhales, and chooses to relent.

"Dinner is ready. You can pick up the rest of them later."


End file.
